Little Brain Pieces Poem by Alistair Graham

I decide the world's crazy
as I stare at my feet
I open the curtains
to look out on the street

I switch on the reading lamp
get paper and pen
I sit in my boxers
on the sofa again

No longer a gardener
I hung up my spade
was doing damn well
but my destiny's made

It toiled for ten weeks
from beginning to end
I made heaps of money
but ill sell all to a friend

Christ now I'm in trouble
I've been here before
no income to speak of
wolves queue at the door

Am I bloody mental
Is there something not right
Is the head on my shoulders
as high as a kite

Its Thursday tomorrow
I must find a job
I'll bring minimum pounds home
I'll work with the mob

The sand-dune picture
above on the wall
reminds me of holidays
when the boys were small

We'd go to Kilkeel
or Wexford to camp
even in those days
my head was like champ

It wasn't all of it
or all of the time
just little brain pieces
like mackerel in brine

My boxers are white
the sofa is red
my skin is a tan colour
off with my head.